Sound Off
by Wicked R
Summary: Lack of Elizabeth gets Jack down. Gibbs helps. No slash.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Little By Little

Author: WickedRum

This is just for my own and the readers' enjoyment. Regular disclaimers apply.

Please review as always. Cynicism/criticism is allowed too.

Thanks: guess what? After so many years I'm still thanking the Adrian Paul Estrogene Brigade for their encouragement and giving me a start with fanfic and because this is a rewrite of one of those fics I wrote a long time ago.

Universe: post AWE.

Summary: Gibbs is helping a lost Jack. Enjoy!

Pairing: thoughts of Sparrabeth, Jack/Gibbs friendship.

Rating: G in prescribed terms, but not for those with a weak stomach :)

Genre: h/c.

Even before Gibbs opened the captain's cabin door to go and finally wake him up as it was approaching midday and the crew started to ask questions about him, the smell became evident for an experienced drinker like he was. It was the malodorousness of different kinds of rum mixed together with the stink of their thrown up form. The view explained everything a couple of seconds later. The room was scattered with emptied bottles, with Jack lying knocked out and side-a-ways on the once a long time ago clean bed, left arm lifelessly almost reaching the floor conforming with that law of gravitation Jack told him about he didn't understand why it had to be discovered since everybody knew things just fell anyway. Has Jack been drinking all night?

Jack didn't seem to have noticed his first mate's arrival. The bed was soaking in the previous contents of the younger pirate's stomach, also known as lots of yellowish, brownish fluid. Drink intoxication seemed appropriate to presume. He wanted to be knocked out big time, if one may suppose.

Gibbs knew that all this, his friend in this state, but more importantly him being like this when Barbossa was still around to snatch his ship only mean one thing. Or two. Or neither. It was either Jack trusted him and the crew, that would've been a ridiculous thing to do, or he didn't care about his ship. Both inconceivable. Gibbs wrinkled his forehead as he heard his captain mutter the word Lizzie. Was he dreaming about being sent to the locker? His relationship with Elizabeth has been queer to say the least, he couldn't tell to the very day if they liked each other or not. However it was, he ended up with the job of cleaning up the act this time, in more ways that one. He almost cursed at taking in the extent of those cleanings, but looking at Jack his strong feelings of annoyance turned into concern. Yes, sure, Gibbs needed to be washed up himself quite a few times when overindulging in rum, but he was happy when he did so as opposed to Jack, who was the incorporation of sorrowfulness since they've parted from Elizabeth. Or was it he didn't get to keep the Flying Dutchman? Was it a coincidence? No matter what, the right decision here was to stay with him and watch him. He would be needing a friend when he woke up, he could leave Ragetti by the helm. And Joshamee Gibbs will be around for Jack, always. With a sigh, he went for the bucket to start cleaning up.

A glary white hot light drilled in Jack's head. It must've been the sun. If so, where was Elizabeth, his sunshine? Oh, no, Elizabeth left, and what was left for him now? Senseless wenches, as many as he wanted, but none like her. How could he not drink her out of his system! Jack raised his weighty eyelids. Gradually, the room emerged from a colorless cloud. He peeped on every side. How did he even get down here? How did he ever make it to his quarters? Who brought him here back on board his ship? Why was the ship moving? When did they leave port? He couldn't remember. What was wrong with him? He forced to recall...the blankness that covered his consciousness hurt. He glanced at his hands and legs. He could move them. Apart from some tenseness and muscles spasms, he felt fine. He had his trousers on, and a strange shirt that wasn't his and it was too short for him. His own clothes lay on the floor in a pretty damn dirty slimy mess. But for what reason? He searched the room once more. On the seat close to the bed were some other clothes and some shoes. He forced on the boots, they were too tight as well. What the hell? He couldn't recollect possessing a pair of those. He attempted to remember, the headache intensified...it was only the melancholy that was creeping in. Blank. What on earth had occurred. Dismay tensed him as his senses instructed him to move his legs. The rigidity ended as he grabbed the coat that hung on a peg and made for the door.

"Begod! Captain!" His first mate stepped in the very door startled, just when he wanted to head out. "I took the liberty to get your sicked on clothes off, I hope you don't mind." Gibbs was uneasy as to how to overlap that muddle that characterized Jack's behavior lately and how to go back to the old days of ease from the times just after Jack hired him. He needed to find a common cord pretty soon, if he wanted to comfort the younger pirate. Not just for Jack's sake, but for his own as well. Gibbs was completely aware of the importance of that. A little bit more of this behavior and they'd lose the ship to Barbossa. If Gibbs was wanting to have a chance at sailing with Jack, it was crucial that he now forgot all the insults and annoyances that he could come up with at any moment being angry with Jack and say something that mattered. But nothing much occurred to him, something that the younger pirate wouldn't already know. A wise saying that would solve everything. They didn't really exist. But he could take care of the young man, "where are you going?" he finally blurted out.

Gibbs. The fight with Beckett. Elizabeth…everything got clear again for Jack in a flash. It was his ultimate cry for help getting that drunk, he knew Gibbs would try to sort it out. He felt sad and empty. He couldn't sleep. He felt worthlessness because of being beaten by fate. And guilty every day for not being good enough of a man for Elizabeth. Ignoring Gibbs, he continued his way out. He wanted to ask for his help, but he was discomfited by the idea, too proud. Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't going to ask for help, at least not with words. Hell! He was going to make that mistake all over again, wasn't he? It was either that the older pirate will figure that one out by himself and stop him destroying himself, or he was just gonna leave it at that, suffer more, kill himself with the drink, just so accidentally. He wasn't going to ask help from Gibbs or anyone. Bursting into a dash, he warped out the doorway and to the corridor. He didn't contemplate, he just ran and he kept running, up the stairs and out to the deck. In front of all the crew, Gibbs must leave him alone. He didn't even hear Gibbs shouting and running after him. He couldn't slow down. He needed to run. To hide. From something. He ran.

People jumped out of his road as he charged up to the helm. He was on a ship, was there anywhere to run? So he ran back down, making a very weird appearance. Pintel waved. Nobody was surprised. Captain Jack was a weird man, but it all made sense in the end or so the crew trusted.

Tbc


	2. Overspill

Chapter 2: Overspill

Hoping he at least confused Gibbs with that burst he arrived back into his room, closed his eyes and fell to his knees. The darkness shut out all, exclusively the suffering burning through every piece of his body. He wanted it. Holding his eyes closed, he held his abdomen, rolling over. He almost got sick. It took a while until he could open his eyes and face his surroundings again. Opening his eyes cautiously, he glanced upwards. He turned his head, stood on unsteady legs and looked around again.

Gibbs was standing there, cursing, "huh, do you think my bones can take the steps so many times in the same minute??"

Jack had other things to care about, than answer. His eyes clearly given away the confusion to the other pirate. The older pirate closed up on Jack slowly, touching his shoulders. "I was thinking if you could help me?" Jack finally blurted out.

"What?" It wasn't the right thing to say to such an inquiry, but the question surprised Gibbs extremely. No manipulations, no hiding away. Jack was asking for his help. "Well, yes…" Gibbs leaned onto the wall and searched the expressions appearing on Jack's face.

Jack buried his hands under his coat, hugging himself. His head was still spinning. He stepped over to the near bucket and used it. He could feel his stomach still being agitated against all the queries and against the lack of food and solutions after. He could sense the strain in the back of his eyes as his mind felt like it was foolishly shattering. He began pacing, but his legs felt fragile now, more than they had when he was ceaselessly hunted by his own imagination in the locker and had to keep on the move. He stopped in front of his first mate, "Captain Jack Sparrow! Who's that? Cause sure as hell's not me. What am I doing here? What new, better can come now? What's immortality good for?"

"Jack, if one does, you know the answers the best. You just can't remember them," Gibbs surprised himself with finding the right words this time, "you're confused, all right," Gibbs was trying to make sense of Jack's behavior himself externalizing it, "drink can do that if you get it the wrong time. You know all this too. Think back, at such times, however you feel it's out of proportion. What's good about things seems wrong, or indeed not real. Other thoughts to ease doubts are deserted as holding no worth until it appears as if there are no possible answers."

Jack stared at him, "Huh? Gibbs? Where did that come from? When did you start reading philosophy? Does it even have any sense what you've just said?"

"Dunno. Come with the age, I suppose."

Jack's eyes revealed that he was considering something. Yes, he knew now, he didn't need the talking all that much. Yes, as Gibbs said, he knew everything that anyone at any point could say about the whole subject. He lived, experienced enough himself. He just needed reminded of all that. But mostly, what he needed was comfort. He made a step forwards in the direction of his first mate. He couldn't make it the whole way though. It would've meant a complete giving over of himself, something he never did, not even in the worst circumstances.

Gibbs hesitated a few seconds, unsure of the movement he saw Jack making, but the younger pirate's facial expression and posture was a dead give away. He saw this man becoming who he was, the spark in those eyes made him desert the navy and become a pirate himself. Then he put his arms around his old mate, just like that very first time before he helped him escape from the East India Trading Company and jumped ship forever, he knew there will be a long and hard way to go ahead of them, but at least they were on the right track.

"What a cosy sight," they heard a familiar voice suddenly. "Too bad I can't join you cause I've got reinforcements."

They looked up. The fact that Barbossa caught up with them and tried to take them over while they were not looking didn't surprise them at all. The two pirates standing behind Barbossa them seemed remotely familiar to Jack, but he could still didn't remember who the large barrel like individuals they faced were.

"You don't remember us do you?" The one to Barbossa's right said. He was bald, with snakelike, airy eyes and a bony skull structure. "Well, you are going to now. At least for those few minutes you still have to live," he threatened and waved his pistol.

Tbc


	3. Tilt

Chapter 3: Tilt

"What do you want from us?" Gibbs took his hands off Jack and readied his palms in fists for an eventual fight. He just hoped Jack would be up for it too. He inched back towards the table where Jack's cutlass lay.

"Our Volcano back?"

"You did what? Took their Volcano?" Gibbs addressed Jack, mainly to waste some more time so his captain could come to.

"Uh, aye," Jack remembered Tia Dalma showing him pictures of these old breed of pirates not all that long ago while picking up his cutlass, "these are the Sepet. Gentlemen," he addressed the newcomers, "you are really making a mistake. Your culprit would be residing at Shipwreck Cove."

The two looked at Barbossa from two sides, then the one that was talking before turned to the side a little to face him, "you were telling us we could get Sparrow."

"Me dear Tovah, believe me, he's Sparrow all right. Just Jack Sparrow and not Teague. Petite difference, does it matter?" Barbossa was annoyed, "can you just not eat them instead?" He asked. The Sepet protector made a face as if they weren't a delicious culinary threat enough and turned back towards Jack and Gibbs.

"I'd find it unlikely too," answered Jack, "you should do some research Hector before you jump into things. The Sepet tribe supply from meat, fresh raw meat. What kind of meat is in this respect highly irrelevant. The Sepet like their meat to be fresh and sometimes keep their meals imprisoned for years, waiting for the opportune moment, when you know, you look yummy. Just to be sure they had enough, they go out on pirate ships, you know, for meat. But I don't know what's the problem, since my father dealt with it and there was a pact of replacing the Volcano with another ship, just to avoid a fight."

"Ah Volcano! A ship." Gibbs now understood.

"You gave us a ship that sinks!"

"We did?" Jack looked surprised, "oh how peculiar for a ship to, you know, sink."

"And the king was on it."

"That is hardly our fault especially that we have nothing to do with…"

The tribal pirates didn't wait for explanations though. Their knives and swords were slashing at them at flash speed while Barbossa pulled a bit back for the moment, enjoying the sight.

"Gibbs!" Jack ducked out the way, "stay clear from the tips! They have poison on them!"

"Can I do this then?" Gibbs punched one of the attackers in the chin, making him reel backwards.

"That's why we'll have to compromise," Jack shouted over the clashing sounds of the weapons.

"What?"

"No prisoners, kill them instead!"

"Great! That's just great!" Gibbs swore and put force into his strike, feeling the familiar energy adding power to his legs as he was engulfed by the strange elatedness that filled him when he had a chance to give somebody a good, well earned beating. His left lashed out and snapped his attacker's head to the side, and he followed it up with an uppercut from his right fist. He attacked with elbow strikes, punches, stabs with his knife, and an occasional push and shove.

The Sepet seemed to flow through his attacks, yet landed powerful punches and kicks that Gibbs was also starting to fear for the strength behind them. If it wasn't for his pirate experience in pubs and inns he would've been nothing more than a bloody piece of unrecognizable mess by now.

Both fighters squared off for a few seconds, studying each other. Unmoving, they waited for the other to move. The quiet Sepet who said no word so far suddenly jumped forward and threw a punch. It landed on Gibbs's waiting palm. He didn't need the momentum since the Sepet provided that by himself by launching himself onto Gibbs. The head almost rolled off by the force of Gibbs' punch while his mouth dropped as it gazed at him with fear written on his features. Gibbs kicked him to the side, thus making sure he was unconscious all right. He knew he was going to come to at some point, but at least he took him out the equation for a while.

He looked over to how Jack was getting on with his Sepet, but by now Tovah was lying on the ground in a pool of blood and Barbossa was the one who took on Jack, taking advantage of the Sepet tiring him. The fight seemed uneven, his captain was obviously hurt, there was blood everywhere on his shirt. The sword was shaking in Jack's hand, his legs were like jelly. Slashes opened one after another on the younger pirate's chest. Barbossa's cutlass crushed his lazy sword aside and quickly snapped at the freed up points. Jack weakened, his hand became slower. He hardly defended himself anymore, he couldn't. The appropriate moment arrived, Barbossa's eyes sparkled terrifyingly and his sword reached Jack's exposed abdomen.

Barbossa looked over to Gibbs before delivering the finishing cut, to see the other pirate's intentions. Jack used that single millisecond to lift his sword with all his remaining energy, and to turn it in a way the edge of it met Barbossa's neck. The trachea of the pirate popped out the way a seed comes out of a cherry if you squeeze it and Gibbs edged out the way not wanting to meet a rolling head.

"You asked for it Hector," Jack's sight fluctuated and as he hit the floor for the second time in just a minute's time. He could still make out Gibbs hurrying towards him or maybe he was still drunk and dreaming the whole fight with Barbossa up with his wishful thinking and then…

tbc


	4. Forward

Chapter 4: Forward

When he woke up Jack could detect voices coming from outside his door. He tried to get up, but those patched up gashes were still too sore. He tried to listen but could merely pick out a few stray sentences here and there.

"Apart from fatigue and too much drink…I'd say three days of doing nothing, no more of an adventure than doing his belt and he should be his ol' self again. He's inordinately resilient." It was Gibbs' voice.

He couldn't pick out any more, he didn't care furthermore, so he closed his eyes and felt like he was being pulled down into the dark deep ocean, quicker and quicker, so quickly that he didn't understand where he was. It was at that moment, that he understood that going back to sleep would presumably be a hurtful concept. He dreamt... He could perceive something, dull…spinning… dashing.. A voice. Arriving out of the fog. Distant. Hundreds of sea miles distant, thousands of years away, but hence near. So badly near.. A voice uttering his name…he spun round and stared into his own dead eyes just like in the locker. Very cold….a voice once more. Nearer, Elizabeth. She was following him. Cautiously, he turned round to see her.

"It's alright Jack," said Elizabeth and cuddled him. And he wished so badly for it to be true. No more suffering.

If only it wasn't a dream, he remembered when waking up and willing himself to get out of bed. Rain prattled against the wood in an effort to get into their every bones and he heard his men dashing about. Everybody who was needed on deck would probably do his job as quickly as possible and then seek protection against the dropping shower with the rest of them. He didn't know what the weather was exactly like, his crew might need him. Besides, sleeping wasn't an option with those dreams. Jack had formerly made up his mind. He did expose himself too much to Gibbs and that was plentiful. The rest of the world didn't need to know about any trouble the famous Captain Jack Sparrow'd experience, he had to get himself together. Jack could not afford to be weak anymore, in any circumstances. No sentiments. Not again. If he let any emotion in, it would all end up rotten again. He had to play carefree. He stepped on deck, determined to stick to playing the game.

"Jack, what are you doing up?" Elizabeth stopped him.

"What are you doing here?" Jack echoed, a lot more surprised.

Elizabeth shrugged, "Mr. Gibbs told me you needed a captain till you get better."

Aye, as if the crew would've willingly opted for a woman as their captain, temporary or not, pirate king or not. Jack looked up at the helm, where Gibbs was. He was going to march up there and hold him over for interfering with his life, but something in him held him back at the last second. The old devilment. He shook his head. Gibbs guessed right what was wrong with his captain and provided a solution too. Now it was up to him to win Elizabeth over for himself. "I can do this," he said to himself quietly while stepping into the empty space between them, so close to her, "after all, I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

"There's no need to go to the helm, we've got it Jack," she assumed he meant taking charge, putting a hand on his shoulder.

She cared so much, he could see that, she cared about his health, she cared about his life. So perhaps he could have a chance?

The End


End file.
